


burning for your body

by liesmith



Series: stray (fake chop) [7]
Category: Cow Chop
Genre: FakeChop, Gunplay, M/M, very light sub aleks undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 05:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12028899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmith/pseuds/liesmith
Summary: yeah, he figured this was how it was gonna go. death valley at sunset, the gun in james' handorsure. aleks can do this. this isn't anything new. just unfamiliar.





	burning for your body

Aleks sits on the hood of his car, staring down at his knuckles. They’re already drying, the blood all flakey and crusty, which is pretty gross, but there’s really no running water out in Death Valley. He curls and uncurls his hands and winces at the burn, but looks pleased with himself when the wounds don’t reopen. Mustn’t be that deep. James is losing his touch with the karambit. And speaking of… James is finally coming up from over the small hill they’re parked on, shaking his own hand out a little. He’s not bleeding anymore either, but Aleks’ has perfected the small stings of a butterfly knife. He did let James have a choice, so it’s all on him for choosing the lesser of the two.

He spits onto his knuckles and starts rubbing, gently, with the edge of his tank, glad he’s not wearing one that’ll stain. After a couple minutes, he manages to make them look less shitty, and besides him James sits, rubbing at his knuckles with his thumb. Must like the pain. Aleks supposes they both do, though, or else they wouldn’t drive out here armed to the teeth with nothing to do but each other.

Speak of the devil.

“Hey,” James speaks up, looking over at Aleks, a couple of stray curls falling into his face, “you wanna try something?”

He’s asking, so that doesn’t necessarily strike confidence in Aleks, or trust. Normally, they just _do_. That’s what they’ve always been.

“What is it?”

“Uh,” James starts, scratching at his cheek, “it involves a gun.”

Aleks frowns, but shrugs. “I’m game.”

The look James gives him doesn’t make him any more pleased. He’s got something up his sleeve and Aleks doesn’t like to give into his anxiety, but James _never_ hides anything from him. He’s always an open book.

So when he produces the revolver, Aleks remembers it as their roulette spinner, and gives a small noise. Oh, ok. James wants to finish the game. If memory serves him right, there’s two shots left. He figured, somehow, this is what it’d come down to. James is greedy and Aleks is reckless; someone was going to die, and Aleks would rather it by James’ hand then someone else’s. Except, when James sits down back next to him on the hood, he doesn’t hold the gun out. Instead, he gestures to the dusty ground.

“Hey. Go kneel.”

Aleks doesn’t have to be told twice, mind switching from accepting death to accepting orders. Slides off the hood easily and kneels, obedient and flushed face between James’ knees. He could go on and on in his head about how fucked up this is, the whole sometimes trying to kill each other out in the dying heat, or the fact Aleks does anything if you ask him at the drop of a dime, or the cold barrel of the gun tracing along his jaw. Aleks lids his eyes and without prompting, parts his lips just so, and James sighs above him. Normally, that’s a good sign, but Aleks still feels fear at the base of his skull, feels the way it travels down his spine and pools in his stomach. It’s natural to be afraid, to want to run, but he trusts James, and they lock eyes when James traces the tip of the gun along his bottom lip, and then past them, bumping just slight into his front teeth before Aleks opens his mouth wider. It stops just short of the back of his throat and it takes a moment, dumb look at James and all, but Aleks gets the memo. He knows what James wants and has no problem in complying.

His eyes drift slightly closed, lashes just touching the top of his cheeks, and he gives a few tentative sucks. The revolver’s not very comfortable in his mouth; it’s heavy in an unfamiliar way and tastes bad, in lack of creative words, but it’s not like this motion is that foreign to him. Just different. Aleks takes no time at all in building up a rhythm, laying his hands on James’ knees like as if they’re not out here in the dying sun and somewhere more comfortable, like… the warehouse. Or something.

Aleks just bobs his head, drooling more then he would normally over the gun. Hands squeeze James’ knees, whose breath has become heavier, just slight and almost hard to hear, but Aleks knows the signs. Knows when James runs a hand through his hair, cups the base of his skull, moves the gun like he’d move his hips. It bumps now and then into his teeth, but that’s alright. The vibration rattles his skull and for some reason, just excites him a little more. Speaking of… Aleks wants to palm himself, tight as hell in his jeans, but he’s not even sure James would let him, and pulling back may be a bad option.

Instead, he just squeezes his thighs together, squirming slightly to get some sort of friction. It’s not enough, but it’ll do, the slight rub of fabric against him. He focuses instead on the weight in his mouth, curls his tongue around the barrel as James pulls it out just slightly. He hums around it, forgets it’s not real for a moment, and follows after it. It bumps the back of his throat and Aleks doesn’t mind, lids his eyes and looks up through his lashes at James, makes the slightest bit of eye contact and hollows his cheeks as he sucks.

James _gasps_ , like it’s something he hasn’t seen before, and full body shudders. Aleks just purrs and feels victorious, hands creeping up from James’ knees to his thighs, digging his thumb along the inseam as he bobs his head faster. He’s so worked up, squirming in his position to get just that smidgen of touch, that bit of friction, and he just whines, muffled around the revolver’s barrel as he comes, shaking.

His jaw aches like hell when the revolver’s pulled away and above him, James is laughing, a breathy sort of happy laugh that just warms Aleks throughout, moreso then what just occured ever would. Doesn’t even mind his lips are bruised to hell, doesn’t even mind that his chins covered in drool.

“... It wasn’t loaded, you know.”

Oh. “Fuck.”

“Did you… you thought it was loaded! Aleks, you… holy shit, you idiot!”

Aleks burns bright, groaning to himself as he gets to his feet, jeans sticky and tight against him and so fucking uncomfortable. “No! No way, it was just hot!”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” James laughs, again, slightly less breathless, but still pleased with himself, leaning back on one hand on the hood, “if you wanted to know, though. The bullet was on your turn.”

Aleks pauses for a moment and then scrubs a hand through his hair, looking out towards the sunset. “... Man, if only it was your turn.”

“Thanks,” James shoves him with a foot and hops off the hood, slings an arm around Aleks’ neck to pull him in close, “that was pretty hot, though.”

His voice is low enough that Aleks almost has to strain to hear it and each word is like a livewire, jolting down his spine to blossom in the dying heat of his stomach. He turns his face, rubbing his lips against James’ cheek, half kissing, half just being needy, and James gives the tiniest growl that sits in his throat.

And, you know. That’s it.

James lives closer, thank fucking God, and Aleks can’t get his hands off the man as his door unlocks, shoving and pulling, not knowing what the hell to do with his hands. Tangled limbs make it past a, somehow, still asleep Ein, and to James’ bed, and Aleks lets himself be pushed down and stretches out, tries to look alluring.

It works.

When he wakes up in the middle of the night, a bad dream startling him awake, Aleks gropes for James. There’s a sleepy, dissatisfied noise besides him, and warm, strong arms pull him down and to James’ chest. Aleks squirms a little, tucks his face into the crook of his neck, and closes his eyes.

Yeah, maybe it was his fault they were stuck in this mess, a never ending swirl of chaos that wasn’t going to dissipate anytime soon, and when it was quiet like this, burrowed into James, holding onto him… Aleks could admit to himself, deep down, he wouldn’t want it with anyone else.

**Author's Note:**

> you know i've wanted to write this for awhile abut i was like nah im going too far but clearly. the spy video showed me different
> 
> more adrenline bois. punching each other in the face. rolling and wrasslin in the dirt. cummin in their 40 dollar skinny jeans
> 
> im still taking commissions and am getting pretty desperate because my laptop alternates between working ok and then just not working. hit me up @ princestarlord.tumblr.com if you are interested!


End file.
